The corridors of the palace bent before them, courtiers and servants bowing low as they passed.
"Your Regent Majesty"
"Your highness."
The words followed Alaric like a tolling bell, echoing down the halls, pressing into every bow and whispered reverence.
But Daphne felt only the weight of his hand at her back, guiding her forward.
Outside, Shadow waited, great and restless, his black mane tossing in the wind. But unlike before, Alaric could not simply mount and vanish into the streets with his wife in his arms.
His new title bound him differently now.
Knights, his knights, already waited, mounted and armored, their banners snapping overhead. A living wall of steel and loyalty. For the Regent Majesty could not move unguarded, not even through his own capital.
Alaric swung into the saddle, every motion fluid, commanding.
Then he extended his arm for her, drawing her up before him and settling her firmly against his chest.
The order rang out, sharp and immediate. "Ride."
